He felt a small itch, seemingly growing even more irritating after each step he took. The closer he came to the alley, the greater his feeling of restless agitation seemed to grow.
It was not on his arm, nor on his leg, but… seemingly midair. Right to his side, as though the darkness itself had brushed against his skin.
The hell…" Ryven muttered, swatting instinctively. His hand passed through the empty space, yet the sensation followed, crawling across his palm, searing his nerves with a pressure he couldn't describe. It wasn't pain. It wasn't touch. Just something annoying.
Clenching his fist, he decided to ignore the itch, forcing himself to continue forward.
Stopping in front of the alleyway, Ryven stares into its dark mouth, the jagged streetlamps sputtering, one flickering out altogether, plunging the narrow gap between the buildings into a deeper shadow.
Slowly treading forward, Ryven enters the alleyway. It doesn't take him long to find something.
At the far end of the alley, nestled between two overflowing trash cans, a man lay sprawled out. His clothes were old and heavy, layered in dirty coats that sagged around his thin frame. A mess of wiry hair shadowed his face. For a moment, he looked just like a normal homeless man, shivering faintly as if against a cold that didn't exist.
Ryven narrowed his eyes. He knew what it was, and it knew that he knew.
'Is it just messing with me?' He wondered, that damned itch still irritating him.
Taking a few more steps, the man slowly lifted his head. His eyes were mostly covered by his large hoodie, but Ryven knew he was staring back at him.
'So what's the plan now?' He asked himself.
Would he attack the creature with no weapon?
Pondering for just a moment, Ryven stood there as the homeless man rose to his feet.
Ryven watched as he stumbled closer and closer.
The homeless man straightened slowly, his movements deliberate and unnatural. His shoulders rolled back with wet, crackling sounds as something began to shift beneath his layers of dirty clothing.
"You look tired, boy," the man said, his voice gravelly and wrong. "Why don't you rest? Just for a moment."
Ryven tensed as the man's arms began to elongate, the sleeves of his coats tearing apart. What emerged weren't human limbs but sleek, chitinous appendages that gleamed like black oil under the flickering light. Four massive spider legs erupted from his back, each one as thick as Ryven's torso, their pointed tips scraping against the brick walls of the alley.
The man's torso remained grotesquely human, but his face had gained those familiar extra eyes. Ryven watched in a combination of tiredness and fear as the spider's six crimson eyes began to track him.
"What am I supposed to fucking do?" He asked, backing up while releasing a stifled laugh.
The creature lunged without warning. One of its massive legs sweeping horizontally, aiming to impale Ryven against the wall. He threw himself sideways, the appendage missing him by inches and striking the brick with a thunderous crack. Chunks of masonry exploded outward, leaving a gaping hole where the leg had hit.
Another leg came down from above like a piling. Ryven rolled desperately upon the fake concrete, his back aching in pain.
"Stay still." The creature hissed, its human mouth stretching impossibly wide.
Ryven scrambled backwards, his body seemingly moving faster than its limit. He's never moved like this before, but the risk of death seems like it can do a lot to a man.
The creature's legs moved in a horrifying coordination, each strike powerful enough to cave in walls. The alley around them was being systematically destroyed, brick and mortar raining down with every missed attack.
But as the fight continued, that damned itch grew worse. It crawled across his skin, invisible and maddening, like something was trying to claw its way out from inside him. He swatted at the air again and again, the sensation driving him to distraction even as he dodged the creature's relentless assault.
"What the hell is wrong with this place?!" he shouted, diving under another sweeping leg that left a crater in the wall behind him.
The abomination laughed. "What's wrong with you?" It asked. "You're flailing around like a headless chicken!"
The itch. It grew and grew, encompassing his arms, back, and even his groin.
it was everywhere now. Not just on his skin but in his bones, in his thoughts, like static interference in his brain. Ryven stumbled, nearly getting skewered as a leg whistled past his ear.
"This is fucking unfair!" he screamed, his voice cracking with frustration. "I'm stuck in this nightmare hellscape with no weapons, no way to fight back, and this goddamn—" He clawed frantically at the air, trying to scratch something that wasn't there. "This fucking ITCH won't leave me alone!"
The spider paused, its multiple eyes blinking in what might have been confusion.
"Itch?" It asked, the world around going silent.
He scratched violently at both his face, and the void around him, his nails raking through both skin and nothingness. "GET OFF ME!" He screamed, no longer even concerned about the spider.
And for a moment, he could've sworn that he had scratched through something. Feeling the itch stop, Ryven stood puzzled in front of the frozen spider, slowly turning to his left.
There, floating in the middle of the air was darkness. Not the void, but a darker darkness that seemed to be bleeding into this dimension.
"How is this possible?" The spider asked. "This is MY goddamned plane! How could someone of your meager power possibly break through it?"
Confused, Ryven stared at the dimension's wound.
'What could this possibly mean?' He wondered.
'Was this an exit? No, it's far too small.'
Gleeful however, Ryven glanced back upon the spider who seemed frozen in front of him.
Taking only a moment, Ryven reached through the dimensional tear, aiming to grab a hold onto something.
At first, all his fingers could feel was the cold. He imagined something. A weapon of sorts. Something useful at breaking through armor and slicing through the strongest of materials.
He reached deeper, praying for something to even out the battle.
His eyes widened in shock as his grip finally closed upon something solid.
Ryven yanked his arm back from the tear, stumbling a step as the void seemed to resist him.
And as his hand emerged, he was no longer empty handed.